Gaya's Astronomy ~ Volume 1, Chapter 1


Dramatis Personae

Ensign Gaya's personal log, supplemental.

When you're in Starfleet, you're constantly invited to conferences, lectures, and oh yes, mixers.  Starfleet hosts 
lots of mixers.  The intention is to foster interstellar understanding and cooperation amongst planetary delegates, and camaraderie amongst the fleet.

Now, the delegates may show up to further the interests of their respective planets, but the fleet?  We just show up to party.

Not during the actual event, of course; decorum must be observed at all times when your commanding officers are present.  But once they retire to their studies and quarters which are least three times the size of ours, we lower-ranking officers go all out.

Starbase 27 just so happens to orbit the planet Koloria.  The Kolorians are humanoid and they drink - that's all I really need to know.  Because if what Lt. Tria says is true, then this is my last chance to enjoy having my quarters to myself and I better make the most of it.

"The time is now 0700. Please acknowledge."

As though from a distance, Mylanti herself mumble. It must not have been very intelligible, because the computer's metallic voice repeated, "The time is now 0700. Please acknowledge."

As she stirred from a deep, dreamless slumber, Mylanti suddenly realize everything hurt.  Her lower back hurt.  Her neck hurt.  Her inner thighs burned and the pounding in her skull was almost crippling.  It took a full minute just to open her eyes.

"The time is now 0701. Please acknowledge."

Mylanti was too busy with basic things like sight and movement.  She finally got her eyes open and thankfully, it was still dark.  Then she remembered she was on a space station.  On a space station, it was always dark.

This is my life now, she thought fleetingly, slowly rolling onto her back and staring at the bluish gray ceiling.  No matter what time of day it is, when I look out the window, all I'll see is night.

Her bed was in disarray; there were no pillows and the gray satin sheets were half off her very naked body.  She blinked slowly, noting that even blinking was excruciating.

I need to sit up now.

"The time is now 0702. Please acknowledge."

"Oh, for God's sake - Computer, acknowledged!"

At the sound of the unfamiliar male voice, Mylanti bolted into a sitting position, glancing around the room for the source.  Next to her bed, a light brown humanoid body lay, his long dark hair tumbling wildly about his shoulders.  Naked, he was comfortably hoarding all the pillows, which was no doubt the compromise for having neither blankets nor sheets.

"Acknowledged," the computer replied, and its tone seemed to admonish Mylanti for not speaking up sooner.

"Um...who are you?" she asked.  She winced when she realized that sitting and talking were an agonizing combination.

"Damian," came the muffled reply.

"Okay, Darren," she said lowly, stiffly moving off the bed.  "It's 07-0-something now and I have somewhere to be in a couple of hours, so do you mind getting dressed?"

"Sure," he replied sleepily, rolling over and yawning loudly.  "Do you know where my pants are?"

"No clue."  Draping the bed sheet around herself, Mylanti daintily stepped around him, trying to piece the night together.  After the mixer, which she couldn't remember, she'd beamed down to Koloria and headed to the nearest bar.  Which was probably where she'd met this guy...what was he by the way?  She couldn't recall what Kolorians looked like.

His clothes were at the foot of her bed.  They were civilian, loose, comfortable dark blue clothes.  They smelled of earth and sandalwood.

"Okay, Darian?  I really need you to get a move on," she called, wincing at the volume of her own voice.  She stumbled across the dark blue carpet to her replicator where she rasped, "Raktajino, double hot, double sweet."

"That bad, huh?" he chuckled, slowly rising to his feet, unabashed by his own naked glory. "I warned about you Begosian wine last night, sweetheart.  Told you that stuff was lethal."

"I'll mark that down," Mylanti stiffly nodded, blowing on her Klingon coffee and taking a tentative sip while still clutching the sheet with her other hand.  She remembered absolutely nothing about last night, but at least she didn't regret her choice in bedmates.  This man was absolutely stunning.  He appeared to be human, but then again, so many species resembled one another.

"Look, Don -"

"Damian," he corrected her.  "Damian Silent River.  You're Mylanti Gaya, right?"

"Gaya Mylanti," she corrected him.  "Bajorans say the last name first."


"Look, Damian," she said growing impatient, "I really need to get moving.  I have to shower, clean up, pack and be out of here by 0900, so if you don't mind -"

"All right, I'm going, I'm going," he yawned again, finding his clothes and leisurely pulling them on.  "When do I see you again?"

"Since I'm literally on the next ship out of here, never," she told him bluntly, in case he was an empath.  "Look, I'm sure we had a lot of fun last night, but I don't remember much and don't intend to so...."

"Gotcha," he nodded, heading for the door.  "It was nice meeting you, Mylanti."

"I'm sure," she nodded again, wincing at the sharp pain in her neck.


Ensign Gaya's personal log, stardate...whatever.

When you're in Starfleet, people tend to hype a lot of things.  As a freshman at the Academy, I was told it would be the best experience of my life.  It was okay.  I was told Earth was like paradise.  Sure...whatever.

I also was told the
Enterprise is the most magnificent ship in the fleet.  For once, they weren't bullshitting.

Unlike the starbases and the Academy, the ship isn't decorated in blues and grays.  Instead, the carpets and corridors are like a soft, gold-tinted beige and though all the officers are regal and professional, they also give a polite smile and nod to one another in the halls.  And children!  I heard about officers bringing family onboard, but I had to see it to believe it.

Leave it to humans to bring kids into potentially hostile situations....

Anyway, upon beaming onto the ship I was greeted by one of my roommates, Cillia Yarin.  She's really pretty; I've always admired the spotted markings of the Trill.  I felt they were more attractive than the ridges on Bajoran noses.

She's not yet joined, so she doesn't have the memories of, like, nine or ten people.  But she wants to be.  Every single member of her immediate family is joined.  Her mother is a Chief Medical Officer aboard the Destiny.  Her father is Chief Science Officer on that ship.  Her older brother is a helmsman aboard the Aries.  But Cillia plans to do better than all of them.  She plans to be an Admiral, and wears her black and red uniform like she already is one.


"Did you hear Isi Soyinka's going to be our roommate?" Cillia asked lowly, even though no one was listening to their conversation.

"Yes," Mylanti nodded warily.  "Lt. Tria says it's all rumors though.  She said Isi scored really high on the final exam.  Isi plans to be some sort of mediator; diplomacy is, like, her specialty or something."

"I'm sure her Risian upbringing will more than help with that," Cillia snorted.  "I can just see her now at a conference wearing a pastel pink bikini telling the attendees to 'make love, not war.'"

Mylanti burst out laughing, and Cillia joined in.

"What's so funny?"

The girls stopped walking to face the voice from behind.  Mylanti vaguely recalled the faces of the two men standing before them.

The speaker raised a dark eyebrow, realizing Mylanti couldn't place him.  "Alejandro Kanaway," he helped her.  "We met at the mixer last night."

"Gabriel Ohn," his companion piped up, reaching out his hand.  "I was there too."

Alejandro had Lt. Tria's delicate caramel complexion, dark, dangerous eyes, and a sensuously husky voice of his own.  He wore a black and gold uniform.  Gabriel was slender, golden-skinned, with hair the color of midnight, and a black and red uniform.  He had a very playful twinkle to his gaze.

"Gaya Mylanti," she shook his hand.

"Cillia Yarin," the Trill beamed broadly, hands proudly on hips.  Like Mylanti, she was brown-skinned.  She wore her dark hair up in a proper chignon, however, while Mylanti wore hers in wild, gold-tinted curls, tumbling about her shoulders.  "We're off to meet the Borg Queen."

Mylanti flashed her an alarmed look.  "The Borg Queen?"

"Our Lieutenant," Alejandro snorted.  "On the Enterprise, all new Ensigns are assigned to a Lieutenant for observation, training, and assessment."

"Which basically means," Cillia clarified, "she'll take us on away missions, push us through combat drills, call us maggots, and then turn in reports to Commander Riker stating that we're not worth her time."

"Her real name's Melinda Barton," Gabriel explained.  "She graduated from the Academy a year early and at the top of her class.  Aside for the Borg Queen nickname, she's also called 'Her Heinous Royal Majesty.'"

They all laughed.  It wasn't anything they hadn't experienced before.  It would be just like being back at the Academy and dealing with some bitchy upperclassman.

The four Ensigns resumed their walk together.  They were all nervous about meeting their lieutenant, but no one said anything.  Instead, they stuck with more mundane, and less threatening matters.

"How are the rooms?" Mylanti asked.  "I guess with three of us in one, it's going to be pretty crowded."

"Actually, because they're are three of us, they gave us a fairly big room," Cillia told her cheerfully.  "Of course, there's one bathroom and one replicator, but this is the Enterprise, so everything's really nice.  We even have a sitting room and a dining area."

"Lucky," Gabriel scowled.  "Ours was a one-bedroom converted at the last minute."

"And our replicator's still offline," Alejandro shook his head.

"So is it true Isi Soyinka's going to be your roommate?" Gabriel asked, eyes twinkling.  "She was notably absent from the mixer last night."

"Her shuttle's supposed to be on its way back from Risa," Cillia reported.  "She went home right after graduation."

Alejandro laughed.  "After all that talk about never going back."

"I don't know why she complains about it," Gabriel blinked.  "I mean, it's Risa.  It's one of the top pleasure planets the Quadrant.  She literally grew up in paradise."

It's always the ones who grow up in paradise that don't appreciate it, Mylanti mused.  No war, no genocide, no refugee camps.  How did Isi ever survive?

They entered Ten Forward, the lounge where most officers hung out when off duty.  A dark, curvy woman with wild bouncy brown curls stood at the window in a black and red uniform, holding a padd behind her back.

The Ensigns tentatively approached her, instinctively knowing who she was even before formal introductions.

For some reason, everyone turned to the Trill.  With silent gestures, they urged her to speak up.

Tense and unwilling, Cillia finally opened her mouth.

"Lieutenant...."  Her voice trailed off miserably, forcing her to clear throat.  "I am Ensign -"

"Don't bother giving me your names," came the frigid reply.  "You're Ensigns.  Your names are irrelevant as you, by nature, are also irrelevant."

Mylanti's eyes went wide.  Well now we know they call her the Borg Queen!

"I have a few simple rules," the lieutenant coldly intoned still staring out the window.  "Live by them or die without them.  One, get it into your heads now that we are not friends.  We will not be hanging out; I am not interested in any of your personal problems.  Two, don't let your personal problems affect your professional life.  Three, I call, you run - end of story.  I don't care if you're in the middle of a shower or sitting on the toilet.  I call, you run, end of story.  Four, take your work seriously.  Take it very seriously, as though your life depended upon it because in reality, it does.  I'm going to work you very hard and you are going to hate me.  However, if you go over my head, I'll have yours on a platter."

"Sorry, I'm late!" a breezy voice cut in.  Isi Soyinka hurried across Ten Forward to join her fellow Ensigns.  She smiled brightly to everyone and her deep, rich dark skin was utterly flawless.  She'd no doubt visited a spa while on Risa.

Mylanti inwardly sighed.  This poor girl.  How did she ever survive growing up in paradise?

Lt. Melinda Barton slowly turned away from the window frostily gazed upon the new Ensign.  The poor girl looked like a bird caught in shuttlelights; like her fellow Ensigns, she froze beneath her CO's glare.

"Rule number five," Lt. Barton growled, drilling her dark, unforgiving eyes into Isi, "interrupt me again with your tardiness, and I will see to it that Starfleet ships your ass back to that whore-infested planet you came from."

She strode off before any of her Ensigns could respond.  They all watched her go with their jaws on the floor; Isi stood stricken like a beaten stepchild.  She turned to her fellow Ensigns finally and meekly asked, "What were rules one through four?"

Up Next

Chapter 2


  1. Whooo hoo hoo! I'm SO feeling Melinda Barton. A bad-ass after my own heart. She probably packs a blade. I like her.

    And when will folks learn not to fuck with the Begosian wine?

    1. It'll be the day they learn not to smoke Andorian dream leaf.


  2. Hey, suggestion.

    Because your cast is large, do you mind throwing up a pic every now and then of who is who? I found myself going back to the Dramatis Personae to keep up with who was who.


Due to the rise in spam, word verification's been turned on.

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